


Daylight Saving

by Trash



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is still in the desert other world, Cecil is beside himself, M/M, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 17:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6125113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who said Cecil didn't try looking for a way to reach Carlos?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daylight Saving

**Author's Note:**

> I'm losing you,  
> Through the dark into the break of day.

Cecil opens and closes every door exactly six times. He does this regardless of whether or not he plans to walk through said door, and he will never, ever leave a door open.

He knows that his colleagues think he has really lost it. ("No, for real this time," they whisper as he repeatedly leaves his desk to close the office door whenever someone leaves it open by mistake.) Still, they get into the habit of closing doors behind themselves, and they have stopped staring whenever Cecil leaves his booth during the weather to open and close a door.

Earl is the only one to voice his concerns aloud. A pre-recorded sponsor message plays and Cecil gets up to routinely open and close the door all while Earl watches, brow furrowed.

"Uh, Cece?"

"Yes."

"What you up to there, pal?"

Cecil sighs and meanders back to his desk. "I just have to check," he says. He puts the cans back on and turns on the mic, introducing Earl to the listeners as if nothing happened.

After the show Early grabs Cecil's hand on his way out the studio. "Wait. What's with the doors? Is everything...okay?"

Cecil looks down at their hands linked, his skin darker than Earl's. Carlos' skin is darker than both of theirs combined. Cecil feels cold. "I'm fine," he says.

Earl looks at him closely. "He went through a door, didn't he? Your scientist? He went through a door and now you're hoping you can find the same one. So you can follow him."

Cecil snorts. "I'm doing no such thing. I have an appreciation for repetitiveness, and even numbers. And...the mechanism of doors."

"Cece, you can talk to me."

Cecil tugs his hand away slowly, looking at it. His nail polish is beyond redemption, at this point. (A lot of things are.) But Carlos painted them for him, and it feels strangely rude to even consider removing it.

Earl is still looking at him. "If you ever want to come over for dinner, you're more than welcome," he says, "or I can come visit you if you'd like? Either of those things would be fine. I'm good company."

Cecil nods. He doesn't know how to voice his fear of returning home to his empty apartment. At this point it contains an equal amount of his and Carlos' stuff. It's their place. Not his. He is half of a 'they'. Only not now. Not at this moment.

"Goodbye, Cecil," Earl says, his tone light.

Cecil knows he feels sorry for him, everybody does. He has no time for their pity. Instead, he trails back toward the break room, opening and closing each door he passes.

 


End file.
